


You killed me, Ian.

by fuckinggallagher



Series: Prompts & One-shots [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-typical language, Future Fic, Gallavich, Hurt/Comfort, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, Post-Season/Series 10, mentions of Terry's past abuse, mentions of past non-con, not super far in the future though about a year ish, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:26:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22979845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckinggallagher/pseuds/fuckinggallagher
Summary: introverted-explorer Prompted: Ian is working as an EMT again, he’s called out to a situation (chose your own adventure) involving Terry. Ian has to deal with the past trauma vs. his job. Maybe he can’t handle it? Maybe he does it well and goes home to Mickey and they talk about it??
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Prompts & One-shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651432
Comments: 4
Kudos: 136





	You killed me, Ian.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently my brain won’t allow me to write a scene without set up at the moment so there’s more preamble here than necessary but here we go, have some Gallavich angst, and let’s pretend the whole first proposal thing didn’t happen because that whole situation was stupid, there was no break up in season 10 okay? Okay. Also warning this is a fucking rollercoaster. Sorry not sorry. REPOSTED 2/2/20 beta-read by the wonderful Lucky Shaz, I was a dumbdumb and posted it before she edited it so much love lady!

Finally, fucking finally, Ian’s parole is over and after just a few short weeks he’s back at his old station. Rita is nervous about rehiring Ian after he essentially disappeared during the gay Jesus fiasco. After a long conversation, they agree to a probationary period and Ian is back. Ian is happier than he has been in a long time. Every time he was happy something came along to ruin everything…. Frank, Terry, Sammi, his bipolar.

Ian never thought the universe would let him and Mickey be happy and together but somehow they had survived and here they both were with legit jobs. Larry had become Mickey’s parole officer again and he was back at Old Army working security while Ian had been sent to a warehouse on the edge of the southside loading and unloading trucks all day.

  
Larry had been wary about sending Ian into anything medical related after what happened with Paula and that had sent Ian into a low swing that had terrified Mickey. But Ian had bounced back surprisingly quickly, proving his meds were really working now.

  
They had been married for almost a year now, they had their own shitty south side apartment and Ian was off parole. He had done well in his job at the warehouse, where he had climbed to the distribution supervisor position, but he needed to be back doing the job he loved. As soon as his parole was signed off he was on the phone to Rita. She knew his parole was coming up because they had gotten back in touch when Ian invited her to his and Mickey’s wedding. She had supported him through some rough times and it had only felt right that she be there.

  
Ian grinned driving the ambulance through the southside, lights flashing as he and Rita responded to a call down by the docks. Rita rolled her eyes at Ian’s grin. “Well at least you aren’t trying to kill me with your drivin’, Gallagher, but you look far too happy for someone being called to a shooting.” She laughed, teasingly.

  
“You try spendin’ eighteen months loadin’ boxes onto trucks and see how much you'll love this job when you get outta there.” Ian teased back, letting his eyes slide from one warehouse to the next, finally spotting three police cars by the door of one. “Looks like this is us.” He parked the rig as close to the doors as possible and jumped out grabbing his kit and heading inside, not bothering to wait for Rita. He was in rescue mode, not thinking about anything but finding their patient and doing the best he could.

  
Ian stopped dead as he reached the group of cops just inside the doorway. It looked like there had been a riot. Shelves and boxes were toppled around them, papers were lying strewn around the floor, there was one cop bent over what was probably more coke than Ian would ever see in his entire life spilled out across the floor like snow. But Ian barely noticed the chaos. What he did notice was the hardened face of the man lying motionless on the floor, blood spilling and running over the concrete like a river trying to find it’s way back to the sea.

  
The cops were shouting at each other and Rita was running past him to kneel beside the patient starting to pull supplies from her bag. “Gallagher! Get the hell over here!” Rita yelled. “He’s bleeding out, we gotta get this under control or he won’t even make it to the ER.” 

She wasn’t even looking at Ian but if she had been, she would've seen the look of abject horror on Ian’s face. He was like a ghost of himself. Shaking, he walked up and kneeled down beside Terry Milkovich, trying to get a hold of himself but he could barely get his gloves on as his mind flashed visions in front of his eyes.

  
Blank eyes looked up at him but all Ian could see in their place was the snarl of fury the day Ian and Lip had gone to the house to plant the gun. The firey anger the day he had found Mickey and Ian together. A crazed joy the day he met his grandson and a mindless rage when Mickey had come out at the Alibi. Those eyes were always so full of anger and hate that Ian couldn’t reconcile the man he was looking at with the one he knew all too well.

  
Mechanically Ian began to treat the wounds closest to him. Terry’s body was littered with holes; some seeping slowly, some gushing like waterfalls. It looked like he had been shot by a firing squad. Had Terry finally been punished for the years of destruction he caused to everyone he met, to everyone he was supposed to love?

  
“Ehy! Ian! are you listening to me?” Rita shouted. It sounded like her voice was coming to him through water as every word was muffled and she was slightly out of focus. The tangy copper smell of blood filled his nostrils in a way it never had before. All he could hear clearly was the sound of his heart thrumming in his ears and his sight was flooded with the image of Mickey naked, covered in blood with Terry on top of him hitting again and again with the butt of the gun in his hand. Ian’s heart tore open and he screamed.

  
Ian didn’t know how much time had passed when he came around. He was laying somewhere warm and there was a smell he recognized as home. A hand, he thought. Someone running their hand through his hair gently. It was nice, and suddenly he wanted to see who the hand belonged to. Slowly, Ian opened his eyes allowing them to take in his surroundings. There was Mickey, sitting beside him on the bed, his brows knitted together as he watched Ian, but his hand stopped when he saw Ian’s eyes were open.

  
“Mick.” Ian croaked. His throat and mouth were dry.

  
“Ian, thank fuck.” Mickey’s voice had the same broken sound to it and his eyes were red-rimmed and looked sunken in a way they hadn’t since prison.

  
“What-what happened?” Ian asked groggily, trying to grasp around in his mind for his most recent memories.

  
“Fuckin’ Terry happened.” Mickey supplied gently. “Rita said the two of ya were out ona call and it was Terry. Said ya went all weird when ya realized he was dead and ya passed out. She said it was a panic attack like PTSD or somethin’, had the cops bring ya home.” He continued, not looking Ian in the eye.

  
Ian fought in his mind to remember, and there it was.

  
Ian was scrambling to stop as much of the bleeding as he could, while those cold stern eyes watched him, accusing him.

  
“Ehy! Ian! are you listening to me?” Rita shouted. “He’s dead Ian, nothing more we can do, stop.” She reached out, pushing Ian’s hands away and he fell backward, scrabbling trying to get as far away from Terry as possible. Like somehow the man was going to get up and attack him at any moment. Those eyes were still boring into him, ‘You did this to me!’ They seemed to scream at him. ‘This is all your fault’ and then the face became Mickey’s and it was Mickey’s voice screaming at him, ‘You killed me, Ian, if it wasn’t for you that bastard would never have done this to me! He had me raped and beat me and I went to prison for you Ian. And what have you ever done for me? Left me! That’s all you fucking do! All you ever do is fuck me up and leave me even after everything I do for you!’

  
Sobs wracked through Ian’s body but Mickey’s arms were around him in an instant and he was pulled back to the present. It was the kind of crying that a person did when they had held it back too long, pushed it down until they weren’t just crying about this one thing but about years of pain they had no idea how to express until it all came tumbling out.

  
“Ey, ey, Ian it’s okay, it’s okay, man,” Mickey whispered into Ian’s ear holding him close. Seeing Ian cry like this was unheard of. When he was in a low swing he was moody and silent, unable to move and all expression would leave his face. This was something new and terrifying and all Mickey could do was hold him tight. But that was enough. Ian eventually began to breathe again, the tears drying and he held onto Mickey in return.

  
“I’m never leaving you again, I’m never hurting you again,” Ian whispered into Mickey’s shoulder where his head was now resting.

  
“I fuckin know man, that’s why we’re fuckin married.” Mickey looked down at Ian confused. “We talked about this before the wedding dumbass, this was it for both of us, no more hiding, no more running, just you an’ me.” He placed a firm kiss to Ian’s lips.

  
“When I saw Terry like that, all I could think of was you, telling me I was the one that killed you, that it was my fault you were dead...” Ian said softly, holding onto Mickey’s shirt tightly.

  
“I don’t blame you for anythin’ that happened Ian, I was mad back then but you know I don’t blame ya. We both fucked up, we both hurt each other so much but that’s over, it’s fuckin done, it’s just you an’ me now, ‘til death do us part.” Mickey kissed Ian’s forehead gently, wiping the tears from his husbands’ eyes.

  
Ian sniffed, trying to get his breathing back under control. “I’ve never lost it on a call like that, what if Rita fires me? She said no second chances this time.” He choked out.

  
Mickey shook his head. “She already said nothin’s happenin’ to ya. I didn’t tell her everythin’ but she knows enough. An’ look on the fuckin bright side Gallagher, Terry’s fuckin dead!” Mickey tried to laugh but the sound got caught in his throat.

  
“Shit,” Ian gasped out, “Your dad’s fuckin dead!” He looked at Mickey with wide eyes. Mickey simply shook his head.

  
“That man ain’t been my fuckin’ father for years E, him bein’ dead don’ change that. He can’t touch us anymore, an’ I’m fuckin’ happy our kids ain’t ever gonna meet the bastard.” Mickey chuckled darkly.

  
A small smile graced Ian’s raw lips. “Our kids?”

  
The brunette looked away, almost embarrassed. “Look, I never wanted kids. Then Yev came along and that was a fuckin’ shit show but at least he had Svet. But Terry was aways in an’ outta the joint like a fuckin’ revolving door or some shit, but now it’s fuckin’ over and he’s gone. He can’t fuckin’ ruin our lives anymore, we ain’t gotta sit here an’ wait for the next time he’s gunna pull the fuckin’ rug out from under us or whatever.”

  
Ian rubbed Mickey’s back as the older man spoke. It wasn’t often Ian saw this side of Mickey; so raw and vulnerable. The last time he’d been so open about his feelings for Terry had been on their wedding day when the Gallaghers had him cuffed to the shelf above the washing machine.

  
“Plus ya know I only got a few weeks left and there’s this garage near the job that’s hirin’, I ain’t got much but I’m good at fixin’ shit, maybe I’ll give that a go.” Mickey shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal that he had been thinking of the future but it had Ian smiling widely, the way he had when they talked about marriage, and about picking up a couple strays from the neighborhood for cheap, and getting their own place.

  
“You could probably get Larry to write you a letter of recommendation.” Ian nodded thoughtfully, imagining Mickey in coveralls, hair sticking up in all directions, grease smeared on his hands and cheeks. He grinned.

  
“Shut it, Gallagher.” Mickey groaned when he saw Ian’s grin, he hated that grin. It was Ian’s ‘I’ve got a marvelous plan’, grin.

  
Mickey loved that grin. 


End file.
